The Birds
by RiannaSeven
Summary: Santana has the celebrity life everyone fantasizes about: the dedicated friends, money, faithful fans, unwavering confidence. But what happens when a mysterious doctor shakes the foundation of Santana's empire.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This is an AU Quinntana fic. I do not own Glee or the songs used; they belong to Ryan Murphy and The Weeknd (maybe Frank Ocean), respectively. **

_Can't you see?_

_It won't mean a thing to me_

_I've been doing this too long_

_Baby girl, I've felt it all_

_So watch out_

_If you try to play your luck_

_Ain't nobody gonna care enough_

_To catch you fall_

The words came out so smooth and sure.

_So don't you fall in love_

_Don't make me make you fall in love_

_Don't make me make you fall in love with a girl like me_

_Like me_

'_Cause girl I'm just a bird_

_I'm just another bird_

_Don't make me make you fall in love with a girl like me_

_Like me_

The audience cheered, but the singer has heard it so many times. She just waves flashes a fake smile and turns to head backstage, but not before noticing the tears streaming down an audience member's face.

_I warned her_.

* * *

"Santana!"

"Santana! Over here!"

"How does it feel being back in the states?!"

"It feels fine. It feels the same every time they stamp my passport. Can you please move?" The paparazzi move out of the way, the blinding camera flashes never stopping. Santana Lopez made her way to her car, never turning around to see who was following her. Her best friend/manager/lead dancer/choreographer slid into the car, after Santana opened the door, and waited for her to get behind the wheel.

"Still leaving heartbroken girls in the crowd, huh?"

"They don't listen, Britt. I sing that song all the time and I tell them to their faces that they shouldn't plan 'forever' around me. I say that to every girl I meet," Santana started the car a drove out of the parking lot and let her custom made sports car slide into the New York traffic.

"You never said that to me."

"We have been friends since we were born. You, Brittany Susan Pierce, are my best friend and the only person I will ever promise forever to," Santana took her right hand off the gear shift and reached for Brittany's hand, giving it a light squeeze. "No other person has ever cared about me enough to stay with me, and I will never give you the _'Not the One'_ speech, I recite to everyone else. Okay?"

"I love you too, San," Brittany turned to smile at her friend. Santana placed the blonde's hand underneath hers on the gear shift, changed gears and sped down the street.

* * *

"Hey, B! I'm gonna go get in the shower. Listen for the pizza guy, and then take the food upstairs," Santana called from the bedroom of the condo she shared with Brittany.

"Ok," Brittany put one of her ear buds in her ear and danced through the apartment, until she heard a knock at the door. Grabbing the $40 Santana left on the coffee table, twirled towards the front door and paid their usual pizza guy and waited for him to get back on the elevator.

Once she noticed he was gone, she grabbed her keycard and walked to hidden elevator that sat behind a door labeled _Authorized Personnel Only_. Once in the elevator, she swiped the card and waited patiently as it moved up to the very top floor, where Santana's hideout was located. The two- story penthouse apartment was off-limits to anyone who didn't have a keycard; the button for the first floor of the penthouse could only be accessed by emergency services. The paparazzi that followed Santana and Britt didn't know she bought the penthouse as well, so they always had a place to escape to when they began stalking her much smaller, more public condo.

She placed a couple slices of pizza on two plates and waited for her best friend to enter the apartment. Brittany turned on the TV in the kitchen and saw the video footage of Santana's performance from that night. The host of the talk show was saying something about how Santana is a heartbreaker and how her music and playgirl lifestyle are a reflection of that. _No, it's a reflection of having _her_ heart broken._


	2. Chapter 2

"Santana, wake up!"

"No!"

"Yes!"

"Get out!"

"Get up or I'm coming in," Santana sat up in her bed at the new voice.

"Kurt!" she screamed, smiling.

"Santana! Are you clothed?" He knew she never slept without at least a sports bra and boxers on.

"You know I am, get in here!"

As instructed the man entered the room and sauntered towards the seated Latina.

"When you called last night saying you had a date, I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow."

"I didn't want to ruin a potential relationship by going home with him."

"That's why I don't do relationships. They get in the way of potentially amazing sex."

"Haha," the brunette boy said, sitting next to the singer. "You know you can't keep doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Sleeping with girls and 'dating' for two weeks."

Santana stood up from her bed and pulled on a pair of basketball shorts over her boxers. "I don't care. It's not like I sleep with every girl I meet." After a few minutes of silence, Santana asked, "Britt told you about last night, didn't she?"

Kurt nodded, "She was the only one you had been with longer than a month. Why did you break up with her in front of hundreds of people?"

"It's not like anyone knew what was going on," Santana said walking out of her room. "Beside, you know the rule. _Six weeks is the limit_."

"I still don't get that," Kurt said walking to the girl's en suite bathroom. Santana was right behind him with a clean face towel. "If your relationship lasts six weeks, then you might as well keep going until it's over."

"I don't do forever," the singer responded picking up her toothbrush and toothpaste.

"I said 'until it's over' not forever," the brunette man retorted as his friend started brushing her teeth.

"We all know their will only ever be two people, you think about having forever with," he held up his finger before she got the chance to interrupt, "in a _romantic_ sense."

"Who?" she mumbled around her toothbrush.

"Rae and L-," this time Santana's interruption was successful.

"Do _not_ say her name. I thought we had an agreement?" She said before rinsing her mouth out. "That would not have lasted forever, as you can obviously see."

"I said you think about forever when it comes to them. Besides, may never know how _that_ could have turned out."

"Whatever K," Santana's muffled voice came from behind her wet face towel towards Kurt who had been sitting on the edge of her Jacuzzi bathtub.

"Ok, subject change!" He said suddenly less serious than he had been moments before. He knew Santana's patience and mental control didn't last long in serious situations. Truthfully, none of their friends could handle anything serious for longer than a few minutes at a time.

He could hear his friend's sarcastic "yay" as she exited the bathroom. "Since you finally got some sleep, I have a surprise for you."

"I don't like surprises," The raven-haired girl deadpanned.

"And I don't care. Come on," Kurt commanded as he exited the room.

Santana chuckled, "That is why I'm friends with you."

She followed the man out of her bedroom and down the hallway, past the bedrooms of her friends along the way, and into the living room. A tall raven-haired Asian man was sitting on her couch with his feet on her bullet-resistant glass coffee table.

"Mickee!" She ran to the man and jumped into his lap, straddling him, and wrapping her long arms around his slim neck. "I missed you," Santana mumbled into his neck.

"I missed you too, Jellee." Mike "Mickee" Chang had been in London for a month as a guest performer with a dance troupe. This was the first time Santana had seen him in anything other than pictures in a month.

"What about me?" Santana didn't have to look up to know the voice came from Noah Puckerman.

"I just saw you last night Pucky, I haven't seen Mike in a month," Santana said finally releasing the man and sitting beside him on the couch. "Besides, I like him more than you."

"Who gets you weed?"

"Ducky."

"Fine, who gets you good weed?"

"Who told you where to get good weed?"

"Touche."

"Speaking of weed," Mike interrupted, "Guess who stopped by _New Netherlands_ before coming here?" He pulled a black Ziploc bag from the front pocket of his jeans.

New Netherlands was the unofficial name of the neighborhood where Santana and Puck usually got their marijuana. Almost everyone who lived there legally grew marijuana. They sold the weed through a restaurant named aptly named _New Amsterdam_. Their signature was the black Ziploc bags.

"We can take care of that later," Kurt said. "Let's get food first." The man walked through the empty dining area into the kitchen to find Brittany leaning on the counter with an array of breakfast foods lined up on the island in front of her. "Well then, I guess we no longer have to worry about food," Kurt spoke as the other three entered the Kitchen and claimed three of the five stools lined up in front of the island.

"So what are we doing today?" Santana asked after fifteen minutes of silence and chewing. For someone as independent as her, the 21-year-old relied on her friends to occupy her time.

"You could hit up the studio," Puck suggested, to which Santana shook her head.

"Or you could go to the doctor like you should have last week."

Santana looked at Brittany with a blank face, "I have an appointment for a check-up Thursday, okay?"

Brittany nodded and continued eating.

Mike decided to speak this time, "Stop neglecting this San." Everyone looked at him, except the singer herself. "You can't put this off, you might hurt yourself in the end."

"I won't."

"Good, serious moment over now," Kurt interjected before anyone else could say anything about the caramel-skinned girl's avoidance of doctor's offices and hospitals.

"Kurt, have you been smoking lately?"

"No, but I will be once Mike opens that bag and we get in the box," everyone laughed.

The box was a room on the second floor of the penthouse. The room only had a door, a skylight, two vents on the ceiling, and various forms of seating, including some couches and a mattress. The vents could be closed so that all of the smoke would stay in the otherwise closed off room, effectively turning the entire room into a hot box. Once the vents were opened the smoke would float up to the roof.

"Well then, let's go!" Brittany headed toward the stairs making sure to grab her duck shaped lighter along the way.

* * *

**A/N: As you can see this chapter was just a little filler, so you could learn a little more about the mystery that is Santana Lopez, but don't fret, ****Quinn will make her appearance in the next chapter, though she might not see Santana.**


End file.
